The night passed and before I knew it I was waking up slumped over my desk. The sun was blaring in through the cracks in the blinds. My head pounded as I looked around the room and for the first time in my life a feeling hit me. I felt alone and somehow that was worse than my injuries and the hangover combined.

I swigged from my whiskey until it overflowed from the corners of my mouth, until my mind and body numbed, but the feeling stayed. The phone rang. I ignored it. Whoever it was could go fuck themselves.

Then there were footsteps outside. It was the landlord, most likely. I dug into the top drawer of the desk and pulled out a wad of bills and stood. When he came through the door I was going to throw the bills into his face. Maybe that would feel good. The steps stopped outside the door and there was a quiet rapping.

“Come in,” I said

The door opened. I dropped the bills.

It was Mo’Lock.

I squinted. “Mo’?” I said, “Is that you?”

The ghoul stepped in nodding. “Yes, it’s me.”

I could have hugged the big dead freak. I didn’t though. I just stood there looking stupid. “What happened to Mr. Blue?”

Mo’Lock shrugged. “I let him go,” he said and smiled. “I didn’t like being me again.”

Now I smiled. “You were kind of uptight. You didn’t like me, that’s for sure,” I said.

I looked down at myself and realized I was covered with blood.

Mo’Lock put his hand on my shoulder and began pulling me out the door. “You look like you could use a few thousand stitches. Let’s get you to the hospital.”

I followed the ghoul out of the house and to my car.

“Don’t read into this too much,” I said, “but I’m glad you came back.”

“Me too,” he said. “Besides, you owe me forty bucks.”

Stitch

Have you ever had that déjà vu feeling and then realized that your life was repeating itself, that the same horrible things kept happening over, and over, and over? If you have, then you might have some small smidge of an idea what it’s like to be me.

My name is Cal McDonald. I hunt monsters. If you wanted to be all dramatic and shit, you could say that monsters are my business.

I was visiting the hospital to have a few hundred stitches removed after a particularly nasty incident with a rogue soul. I’d gotten pretty fucked up. Who am I kidding; I got bitch-slapped around like a rag doll. The only reason I’m still alive is because Mo’Lock stepped in and saved my life.

At one point during the suture removal process, the doctor pointed out that I kept grabbing my gut. He asked me if I had stomach problems.